


Bad Habits

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anime Spoilers, Asexual Mikasa Ackerman, Bottom Eren Yeager, Crying, Eren Is a Little Shit, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Female Hange Zoë, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gang Violence, Implied Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Levi/Eren Yeager-centric, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Minor Sasha Blouse/Connie Springer, Nerd Armin Arlert, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Other, POV Eren Yeager, Panic Attacks, Psychological Drama, Shipping, Suicide, Top Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Writer Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:46:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4622445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically there’s this shit named Eren, right? And he’s like, obsessed with recording to this unhealthy extent, and he’s got a bunch of cognitive tics and issues, so he drops out of college, can’t pay rent and his life’s going down the shitter. This is UNTIL he meets Levi Ackerman, the acclaimed (and secluded) novel writer who is willing to pay Eren to write his life biography, his mental problems, trauma, all that jazz -- and they slowly fall in love in the process. Hopefully it isn’t complete shit?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Habits

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, this is me. :) I will give you a warning, if you easily triggered by mentions of anxiety attacks, mental health complications and drugs you should read with caution. My updates might take a while but that's just because I like making worthwhile chapters. I really, really appreciate critiques and comments so don't be shy! I hope you enjoy my story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Chapter two is in progress and hopefully it'll turn out well. Enjoy the read.

When I had first met the illustrious Levi Ackerman, the night felt odd, probably because I wasn't carrying a recording device, or anything remotely similar. 

I guess that whether it be your best friend from the fifth grade or just some inkless pen you’ve had for too long, it’s hard to let something go after a really long while. 

I’m not going to lie, not being able hold the recorder was a bit more than unsettling, and since I had nothing to do with my hands, I resorted to biting my nails. 

Armin guided me through the busy streets of New York, pulling my sleeve through loud crowds of tourists and local vagabonds. 

“Eren, I’m pretty sure it’s this way!” His eyes were bright with excitement, and the happy glimmer wouldn’t be fading anytime soon. I managed to get my fingers out of my mouth and opened the glass door for him. The fact that the rain hadn’t drenched us from head to toe was a low key miracle. 

I had originally intended to spend that rainy Tuesday night editing and perfecting ancient journal entries but my plans took a turn for the unexpected when Armin (a colleague and pretty old friend of mine) found out that I had a day off.

He had been searching for an opportunity to hang out for a pretty long while and naturally once he found out I had an opportunity to do so, he was practically begging me to attend an art show with him at the contemporary Agora Gallery. 

After what felt like an hour (but was probably only a minute) of aggravating contemplation, I decided, why the fuck not? I needed a new story to add to the borderline obsessive collection of diaries and scrapbooks. 

I found myself occasionally searching in the pocket of my jacket, in hopes that there was a camera or recorder or something in there. Maybe I could use my phone instead? No such luck, I left my phone in the car. I wondered if it would have been rude to leave the gallery to go get it. It probably was, but my nails were bleeding, god damn it. 

I wasn’t bored -- I mean the paintings were nice to look at and the whiskey was on the house, so overall it was a pretty good night and Armin was good company too, it just... it seemed like something my sister would have enjoyed more than I would have.

At the thought of her, in the midst of a three person conversation, I froze, emotionally absent from whatever it was we were talking about. 

Subsequent to Armin's vividly noticeable concern was an obviously uncomfortable and almost eerie silence which seemed to plague the room, beginning only with what only consisted of our small group and then expanded into even the thinnest crevices of the building.

Probably no one could have pulled me back into reality -- except for him.

"You're in my way."

The world's seemingly nonsensical puzzle pieces fit into place and the blurred smudges in my vision evaporated. The thin breach between imagination and reality became slowly distinguishable. For a moment, I was stuck in the epithet of delusion sinking into truth, hanging on the precipice of the in-between. Somewhere in the abrupt series of events I found myself in the presence of an almost hilariously short man, though judging by his attitude, not a tame or weak one. 

It took me no more than a few seconds after the rushed trickle of a pre-mental breakdown to sanity for me to realize that I’d spilled my whiskey on his shirt. How charming of me. “Shit, man, I-” 

His eyes stayed perpetually half lidded but he still managed to raise a brow, he grits his teeth as replies with what I could assume was an attempt at being polite. “Whatever, kid.” Without much more said, he walked by me, and the uncomfortable silence faded as our attentive audience returned to their own conversations, too busy to notice ours. 

Armin and I shared a glance of mutual agreement. After everything that had happened, it was only instinct to leave. 

"Well, that was embarrassing." I snorted, relieved to leave the building. After about two hours, it was still raining outside. 

Armin sighed, a look of certain disappoint becoming clearer in his typically neutral expression. He gave me this half smile and shook his head. "I-It wasn't that bad Eren, you were fine in there. Come on!" He laughed softly, trying to ease the atmosphere. "You never do anything embarrassing." 

Even in the dark I could see a tinge of crimson brighten his kind demeanor. I rolled my eyes, it was bullshit but, I appreciated it nonetheless."Thanks."

We were heading towards my car when I noticed a familiar figure across the street. It was the same guy I spilled my whiskey on, but now he was kicking this car with all of his might, so much so that his 2009 Chevrolet shuddered in response. 

"Hey, you think we should offer him a ride or somethin'?" 

"What? N-no! We don't know that guy! Besides," He whispered. "This is New York, for all we know that guy's a crazy junkie with a loaded AK-47!" The wide eyes and mouth spoke in loud volumes, but they were probably false, if not unnecessary effects to exaggerate his point further, as much as I love the guy, it’s no secret that he’s a complete drama queen.

I stifled laughter at my friend's frankly ridiculous retort. "Rriigghhtt... because he's totally got a semiautomatic rifle on him. I mean, he's obviously hiding it behind that oh-so-suspicious whiskey stained cravat of his. This must be an impeccable plan to assassinate us, Armin!" I couldn't contain any laughter by the end of the sentence. Obnoxious giggles clashed contradictingly with the scintillating sarcasm in my voice. "I never actually apologized to the guy, right? I at least owe him a ride home." 

“No, Eren, we’re not giving that guy a free ride. How much am I stress the fact that he’s a stranger? I mean, I know he could be a... decent person and all but… you don’t offer people that sort of thing. I’m just worried. B-besides, he can order a cab if he needs to that badly!”

I rolled my eyes, pulled my fingers out of my mouth and shrugged. “That would have been a really convincing argument, however -- it’s not up for debate.” 

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but his voice was faded by the time I had reached the other side of the street. I pulled the hoodie of my shirt over my head, even though my hair was already frigid with water. I pulled at the sleeves of my grey jacket and inwardly prayed the rain would cease to continue. Cold was never something I got along with.

The man didn’t quite seem to notice me as approached him. He pulled out a thin cigarette, lit it and glanced briefly at me before looking away, blowing a cloud of foggy smoke into the November air, a smoky offering to the sky. “Do you want something?” His voice was sharp, and a bit intimidating. Perhaps it was the rough bluntness his presence expressed that made him so hard to talk to. 

“I just thought you were having some problems with your car, is all. I was wondering if you’d like a ride home? I kind of fucked up your clothes, I should make up for it, right? I’m Eren.”

He thought for a moment, consciously deciding not answer immediately.

We stood in a mutual silence for a few moments. At a certain point, I got to thinking he enjoyed the pauses between conversations, as if they were draining. Eventually, he pressed the bud of the cigarette against the alley wall and allowed the object to fall towards the ground, stepping on it. “Drop me off at Penn Station, I can make it from there.” His back was no longer leaning against the wall when he pushed the fringe of wet hair away from his eyes. “My name’s Levi.”

"Eren Jaeger."

Armin stood cross armed and impatient on the other side. As I began unlocking the door I noticed Armin seemed frustrated, if not hurt. "Is something the matter?"

He blushed, but I couldn't decide whether it had occurred out of anger, fluster or just the fact that it was really fucking cold out. "Uh, no. It's nothing, just..." Armin's voice was thin, so much so that it could have been confused for a whisper. 

He tried to tame his tone, perhaps into one which leaned more towards pissed off and less towards vulnerable but failed miserably. "I'm just gonna get a cab, y-you two have a good night. Um, drive safely."

“Oh, come on, Armin! I'll drive you home, you don't have to call a cab, I-"

Midway through the sentence, he cut me off. "Seriously, it's fine." He seemed vaguely annoyed.

I was standing in between both Levi and Armin, who walked away. The level of awkwardness and uncomfortableness was unbelievable. I hoped that Levi wouldn't address it, just thinking about how that situation had resolved itself made me inwardly cringe. Which is saying something because I don't often cringe. I turned around slowly, and wishing the scenario would be left alone, but then again, wishes don't always come true. "Friend of yours?"

"Yeah. He's a lot easier to be around when you know him. I mean... he's just a bit sensitive is all."

I unlocked the door for him, he opened it and sat beside me, slamming the door shut and searching in his back pocket for a small white and red box labeled ''Marlboro'. "Pull down the windows, will ya'?"

Despite being bothered by the bad habit, I obeyed him, but spoke my mind nonetheless. "Jesus Christ, are you addicted or something? Do you ever stop smoking that shit?"

He scoffed, not needing to think for a split moment before retorting. "Do you always bite your nails?" 

Levi lit the end of the cigarette with a blue lighter, inhaling and slowly blowing the smoke through the window. I looked at him, somewhat surprised he had noticed in such a short matter of time. "What?" He continued. "It's the same thing, I smoke and you have some affixation with your hands. Are you particularly proud of that affixation?"

"No. Are you particularly proud that you smoke?"

"Tch." He leaned into the chair, staring at the box for a moment, in what I could read as very, very vague regret. "Drive the car and mind your own business, kid."

I couldn't pinpoint why I felt this way, but I really wanted to impress Levi. He seemed really distant, like he was on a completely other dimension than I was. I feel stupid admitting it, but I almost wanted to be there with him. 

Once the car started, the occasional red light would stop us and I would look at him, really notice his physique. His eyes were always half lidded, in a sort of lazy manner, but he always seemed focused. His facial features were very sharp, his expression, the shape of his face -- all of it. Every edge was rough, there was nothing smoothed out or softened. Dark rings that spoke obvious long nights of insomnia completed the gritty look. 

"So," I began, in hopes of starting some sort of conversation, "Do you mind if I ask something?" 

"You can ask all you want, that doesn't mean I'll answer."

"Why do you want me to drop you off the station and not your house or something?" 

He sighed, willing to answer the question but annoyed nonetheless. "I'm meeting a business partner of sorts there. She's my agent, if you would even call her that. She's more like a really lucky homeless person."

"Your agent is homeless and has meetings with you at the bus station...?" I let out a laughed softly. "That's uh, interesting."

"She's not really homeless. She says she lives an 'alternative lifestyle'. By which she means she refuses to work at an office and she cultivates Marijuana."

"Why do you have an agent?" 

Levi threw the cigarette out of the window and checked his wristwatch, he shrugged, taking another golden moment before speaking. "I think of shit and then I write it down. People read it and I make money." 

"Really? What books have you written?"

"I'm going to answer this last question because you're offering me a free ride, and then I'm hoping that for my sake and yours, you'll leave me alone." He sighed, muttering under his breath.

Intimidation flickered in my gut as I pulled the windows up in hopes that the cold would subside, but I was out of luck. The cold hung over us, sticking around in the vehicle, slicing a single shudder from me, persistent, like a deep wound. He stares through the window, almost completely indifferent to my presence. “Post Office.”

“Huh?”

“Post Office,” He restated, “It’s the only book I’ve ever written that I don’t completely regret publishing. Are you cold?” 

“Wait--” I, twenty two year old Eren Jaeger stifled what an overly attached anime fan would refer to as a ‘girl squeal’. “You wrote ‘Post Office’? You’re the Levi Ackerman? I love that book, man! Or should I say sir? Whatever, I own like every novel you’ve ever made, seriously. Who would’a thunk I was in a car with the Levi Ackerman? This is like the biggest hon--”

“Shut up.” He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Who gives a shit? It was an absolute sell out, it was probably an exploit of Petra and I assure you that if you know where to look, you’ll find better stuff on the market. If we’re going to talk, we’re at least going to talk about something other than my writing.”

“Oh.” I nodded, turning my attention back to the road. I should have been humiliated, a normal person would have been humiliated if they were called out like that, but I had to. Okay? I didn’t want to, I had to. I pulled over in the closest parking station I could find. “Can I record this conversation?”

Levi stared at me, brow raised but otherwise expressionless, completely stoic. For a moment, everything ceased to exist, my surroundings became an unnoticeable and trivial detail, something I almost didn't notice. It was as if there was no one on the planet earth save for Levi and I. Every light in the world just slowly faded out until every building in New York City was indistinguishable. The fact that I was way past my limit wasn’t helping either. “I’m gonna walk to the station, kid.”

“No, wait--”

“What?”

I sighed. “We can record it on your phone and then you can immediately delete it, I just…”

“Just what, brat?” He snorted, the car door was midway open, dividing both seemingly crucial alternatives, each which would make feel unbelievably pathetic. He could chose to stay, and I could remind myself that I am a complete obsessive who can’t go more than twelve hours without recording something or he could leave and I could remind myself the exact same thing. I could feel the internal yet inexplicably physical pain of frustration translating into very stifled anger. I closed my eyes, muttering numbers under my breath as I attempted to control the emotional explosion about to occur. I bit into the flesh of my hand, a bad childhood coping habit which seemed to follow me into adulthood and never really go away. Sinking my teeth in deeper, I could feel the rivulet of cold blood trickling down my left hand and dripping onto my jeans, leaving small and almost unnoticeable red splatters.

When I looked up, he was already standing outside, staring at me, arms crossed. Truth be told, it was probably my fault for leaving my comfort zone.

“I’m sorry, we don’t have to record it on my phone, we can do it on yours and then we-we’re done, and we never ever have to talk or see each other ever again, but if you please don’t let me have this one thing, I…” Pouring my heart out to a stranger wasn’t something I found pleasant, or that I was even remotely comfortable with, but impulse got the better of me, by now my words resembled muffled screeches more than they did normal words, but as I continued, what I said almost became a whisper. Vulnerability, an open invitation for him to leave right now and remember me like some unstable compulsive from beginning to end. “I don’t know.” I admitted. “I don’t know what I’ll do, or what’s going to happen. I really, really don’t.” I blinked back the irritation in my eyes and tried to tame the irregular beat of my heart which made it hard to breathe. “That almost scares me.” 

I looked away and I heard the door of the car slam shut, but to my surprise, Levi was sitting beside me, holding an ancient Samsung Galaxy. "I'll record the ride, I've just got a question or two." I heard the familiar ''beep' of the low quality phone recorder.

"What's your deal?" He asked. "Why do you so desperately need this?"

"Y-You're not going to show this to anyone, right?"

He sighed. "I'm going to respect your privacy as much as I can."

At the moment I thought I was probably never going to see Levi again. He was an extremely secluded guy, after all. So, I might as well have feed the obsession. "When people have OCD," I began, staring at my hands, "When they feel scared or anxious or something, they become fixated on certain things. For the majority, it's cleaning and organizing. When do those things they feel better, so they keep doing it and then eventually, they can't stop, they become addicted or somethin'."

"My therapist thinks I might have a really mild obsessive compulsion, but instead of cleaning... I record. I have to, or freak out. Like, I need to write everything down a-and get on camera or something! And it makes the day easier." I pulled the sleeve of my shirt down, to cover the bite mark. ''Pretty stupid, huh?"

Levi scoffed, rolling his eyes. "It's not stupid, dumbass." He glanced out through the window. "I've known enough stupid people to know. Start the car."

I pressed the keys into the ignition, exiting the basically empty McDonald's parking lot.

In a perfect idealistic world, we wouldn't have been living in New York, and there wouldn't be nearly as much traffic. It would have been faster to leave the car, which left me wondering why Levi hadn't used that as an excuse to leave and wall out. At the thought that he might actually enjoy my company, I smiled for a moment, returning my attention to him when he asks the next question. "Why couldn't you have recorded without me in the car?"

I felt my cheeks heat up, I shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "I wasn't thinking back there, I was out of control, you know? And besides, I liked your company. I mean, I know I don't know you, but your presence is nice."

"Hm." 

For the rest of the drive, we were  
mostly silent. We spoke mostly in gestures, and even then, our communication was extremely minimal. 

Every once in a while the recording would end, without asking, Levi would immediately begin a new one. I found him occasionally glancing at me, if I ever happened to glance back, he wouldn't look away. Levi lacked that quality every human had called chagrin. We would look at each other, almost as if we were competing in a game an elementary kid would participate in. I’d basically lose each round, but I didn't mind. 

I was expecting Levi to leave without words, or without many. I wouldn't have minded if that mutual quiet continued. As he was leaving however, he walked just a few feet and turned around. A very faint laugh escaped him. "Hey, Eren. I’ve got another question."

I respond almost immediately to the sound of his voice. "Yeah?"

"Scratch that, it’s more of a command than a question. What’s your phone number?”


End file.
